Elation
by the infamou5 c0pyc4t
Summary: Ichigo stumbles onto a battlefield, unaware of the danger of an elated Kenpachi... MA (Violence/non-con(male) warning)
1. Elation

**Elation**

**~~~  
"**It's your duty as the substitute Shinigami!" Rukia tugged on the front of Ichigo's robes. The orange-haired teenager blinked, not expecting such a calamity when he was called from the living realm to Soul Society. Apparently, there was a huge riot from the Rukongai – the savage districts – and it called the attention of at least two captains: Hitsugaya Toushirou and Unohana Retsu. Normally, missions like this were best suited for the Onmitsukidou, but Soifon and a platoon of her best were combating a hoard of vicious Hollows that had been rampaging on the other side of Soul Society; Kenpachi had, without authorization, rushed with Ikkaku and Yumichika to get on the carnage, and of course, they got lost.

The situation with Toushiro and Unohana was not dire, but the Gotei Thirteen elected to summon their substitute. After seventeen months AWOL, it was decided that some gruesome battle might be good to get him back into his heroic practice. Rukia, of course, was there to greet/scold him the second he headed into Soul Society. She debriefed him quickly enough and reprimanded his hesitance. "You are at the disposal of the Gotei Thirteen whenever you are summoned," she went on to say.  
Ichigo's eye twitched. The way she put it, he seemed like nothing more than a tool to be used. Nevertheless, he could admit to liking Unohana-san, and therefore wanted to be of use to her; Toushiro was alright, but acted like a pompous old man more times than not.

Giving a sigh of submission, Ichigo grabbed the mighty sword at his back and brought it from its cloth binding. "Alright," he exhaled. "Which way is the riot?"  
Rukia gave him directions, but not before chastising him for being unable to sense the spiritual pressure of captains. She would've gone with him, but she was not given the proper warrant; as a lieutenant now, she could not act as brashly as before.

Ichigo used shunpo for a ways, now picking up the heavy pressure of Toushiro and Unohana. Above him, dark clouds began to roil and gather. Toushiro must've been using Hyorinmaru. Either spurred on by the prospect of a worthy fight or not wanting to head in at a slow start, dark reiatsu began to flare from Ichigo. With a command, he exploded with the power of his Zanpakuto's most powerful stage. From the lancing black flames of red-laced reiatsu, he emerged in his Bankai garb. His divided coattails fanned behind him, and he looked like a wraith charging to the heart of the storm to collect some souls.

Closer to the heart of the chaos, the light fall of snow started to become a sprinkle of rain, which eventually turned into an outright downpour. Ichigo was soaked through before even reaching the site of battle, though he did see trailers of smoke from a fierce battle involving the destructive demon arts Shinigami employed. Did the rebels, perhaps, master this technique as well?

"Why isn't it snowing?" Ichigo murmured. Toushiro's Zanpakuto was supposed to control the weather, and though Ichigo knew that it was an ice/water based weapon, it leaned more towards the cold. It should be snowing – a blizzard, even – instead of raining like this. To lose the weather's chill that turned water to ice would mean that Toushiro lost control of his powers and hadn't a chance to dispel the storm clouds overhead.

It wasn't much longer before Ichigo finally happened on the site of the conflict. Bodies were strewn across the battle-scarred land. Most were not dressed in the black uniform of the Shinigami; they were the damned souls drifting from the Eightieth District, though they sadly took a few of the Fourth and Tenth Divisions down with them. Trees were gashed from powerful swaths of a blade. Was this Toushiro's doing? Ichigo was under the impression that the young captain hardly fell back on swordplay, and even then wasn't that fierce.

Carefully, Ichigo touched down on bloody, wet earth, his sandals squishing in the mud. He looked from left to right. Not many were alive, but there were some that still drew breath; those were only Shinigami, of course. "Is it over?" Ichigo dreaded that he was too late to stem a needless slaughter, but he'd still lend a hand in dealing with the corpses and the wounded. Cupping a hand to his mouth, he called out in the rain, "Toushiro! Unohana-san! Are you out there?" Despite the carnage, he doubted captains – even a young one and a healer – would be overwhelmed by this raggedy band of misfits.

No answer came from the darkness. Ichigo swallowed. He'd have to press on to keep on the lookout. It was entirely possible that they were further ahead, tending to who they could. Unohana was that kind of caring sort…

"_Ugh!_"

There was the clang of bashing blades, a flash in the dark rain, and then a white figure was cast in Ichigo's direction. It was too quick to see the impact, but Ichigo certainly saw who had collided with a high bough of one of the still-standing trees. His eyes went wide when he saw the young captain of the Tenth Squad bending backwards from his perch. His eyes were open, but they'd also rolled to the back of his head. Blood stained his robes, face, and hair, his face distorted with pain and terror.

"Toushiro!" Ichigo wasn't about to waste time questioning who could've done this to a captain; he needed to collect the boy and find the healer who was supposed to be with him. He was just about to leap off the ground to get onto Toushiro's branch, but a heavy reiatsu beat him down and increased gravity to where he could not leap an inch off the ground. Cringing, he wondered just who could make such a dense spiritual pressure. He hadn't felt one so powerful since Kenpachi yanked off his eye patch.

Ichigo gulped. Could that be who it was? Had the devil of the Gotei Thirteen come to the battlefield to wreak some havoc on friends and enemies alike? Ichigo would not put it past the battle-hungry beast. Putting himself on guard, his cautious eyes scanned for the hulking savage of the Eleventh Squad. In this year-and-a-half since Aizen's defeat, just how much more powerful did that monster become?

"Kenpachi?!" Ichigo was surprised that he managed to call the name when his throat was clutching. Truth be told, even though he'd been told time and again to abandon it, he always felt a twinge of fear when confronting Zaraki Kenpachi.

Ichigo wandered forward a bit. Toushiro couldn't have been thrown that far from the point of the finishing clash. He kept very alert of his surroundings, though he knew that Kenpachi would never attack an opponent from behind; he was a very straightforward kind of guy.

Ichigo blinked. Was that the man up ahead? It seemed like a vague silhouette. Again, Ichigo called out for the strongest captain of the Gotei Thirteen, though when he came a bit closer, he was quite surprised.

The figure turned, waist-length hair heading straight down and heavy with the unending downpour. She looked unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking the symbol of the Fourth Squad on the back of her white robe tarnished with streaks of blood. This was…

_Unohana-san?!_

Her eyes were upon Ichigo, cutting through the rain to delve into his heart and coax a bit more fear from him. They were so different, her eyes. Where they were normally so serene and lovely; now they were depraved, filled with ill-will and malice. They were not the eyes of a kind healer, but of a madwoman…  
"I am here," she responded to Ichigo's calling for Kenpachi. She rotated fully, but slowly. Around her, Ichigo spotted bodies and body parts; these were far more brutal slayings than those that took place elsewhere. Her blade was outstretched from her, and though rain beat down constantly, it had yet to wash away all the blood and other small bits of body matter.

Could the healing squad captain's sword even be used to draw blood? Ichigo had never seen Unohana hold her Zanpakuto unsheathed before. Sweat mixed with rain on his brow as he faced her. "Unohana-san…? What… what happened?" He turned towards the thrashed body still up in the tree. "Toushiro…!"

"I was bored," Unohana cut him off. "I saw the blood, the violence." She gripped tightly her weapon. "I couldn't suppress the urge any longer. I need to indulge. Kurosaki-san…" The sweetness of her voice flickered when she spoke his name, but she crouched into an offensive posture. Ichigo knew well the stance she took, unmistakable even for a woman proclaimed to be the most efficient healer in all of Soul Society. "Please indulge me."

She leapt with a ferocity that Ichigo almost couldn't catch. On sheer instinct, he brought Tensa Zangetsu up between them to catch the first downward stroke of Unohana's blade. What he could not brace for was the following push of her attack. So heavy! The ground beneath him was unstable from the downpour, so his sandals tore small trenches until he built up enough friction and soil buildup beneath his feet.

"Unohana-san!" He seethed as he tried to press against her Zanpakuto, but her spiritual pressure gave her a severe upper hand. He clenched his teeth. Whenever he clashed blades with an enemy, he could take in a sight of the enemy's heart. What he took in from Unohana was pure carnage, and it frightened him. "Unohana-san! Stop!" he implored her.

She ignored him. The downward slash bearing down on his blade amended itself, switching to a wide sweep that clanged with the swastika guard of Tensa Zangetsu. Ichigo recoiled when his left arm was thrown back by the angry swipe; he feared her brutal attack might've dislocated his arm from the shoulder. Even so, he did not release his Zanpakuto.

He might've still held his only means of defense, but he was not quick enough to defend against the bloodthirsty Fourth Squad captain. He was exposed, and she would not let the opportunity pass her by.

Blood gushed from Ichigo's midsection with the sleek passage of her frenzied sword. Not a deep cut, thankfully, but he still lost his composure to grip at the wound. He quivered. Orihime could patch him up, but she was in the human world. And unfortunately, the best healer around seemed intent on taking his life.

Sparks flashed in the rain when Ichigo parried Unohana's straight thrust. His angular guard helped him catch the blade, but it was a temporary hold. One more time, he asked her, begged her to stop this madness. "It is too late, Kurosaki-san." How could she still sound so sweet, even when her eyes reflected her insanity? "The blood has already started to flow."

Her weapon shifted and unhooked itself quickly. As fast as he was, Ichigo was not ready for the fatal lunge. Steel tore up his body, from the top of his left thigh to his shoulder. After the Zanpakutou made its pass, he stood motionless, unsure of what just happened until a terrible spurt of red gushed from his wound.

He did not scream or make a sound. He was petrified with pain and fear. Unprepared to fight an ally, he was no match for the great swordswoman. He wobbled in place, staring but unseeing at Unohana posed before him with an evil grin on her face.

Was this his end?

He cried out only when he fell back onto the ground. His left arm felt dead; he clutched at the serious wound with his right hand. Zangetsu was on the ground, soaking in mud and rain. If he was to be killed, there was no better opportunity than now.

His eyes went wide and his cheeks bulged when he was skewered just above his stomach. Not life-ending; not yet. A Shinigami possessed the resilience to die a hundred times before being claimed by the true reaper; Ichigo was just nearing that mark.

Unohana towered over her victim, hand tightly gripped on the hilt of her weapon, making sure it was a permanent stick. Against the straggled, guttural cries of the boy, she pushed the blade just a bit more through. If she had been honest, she'd hoped for more from the one who awoke the dormant beast who was her true passion. Perhaps he was going easy on her; perhaps he believed that she could not defend herself if he attacked seriously…

A lightning bolt lit up her deranged smile for an instant.

Foolish child…

Ichigo was gasping. His eyes were heavy-lidded, blind from pain and blood loss. He hardly had the energy to lift a hand, much less to try to drag the sword from his gut. He'd been nailed to the ground, and it was unlikely that anyone would come in time to save him from this madwoman.

Gurgling on the blood welling up in the back of his throat, Ichigo could only watch as the vicious assailant gracefully stepped over him, feet on either side of his waist. Did she intend to end him ceremoniously, push with the weight of both hands until the sword stabbed through him to the hilt. And that would be the end of him. After defeating Aizen and getting his powers back, Ichigo would be killed by an ally.

His eyes were welling up, vision becoming unclear. The moisture of tears and the rain and the draining of blood; he could hardly identify the shapes above him. The obscure silhouette of Unohana was shifting, doing something, yet the blade in his belly stayed still. He blinked several times and squinted against the rain. With what little strength he had left, he lifted his head and took in a better view of the woman.

Unohana liked that he wanted to take in the sight of her. She did not want this ritual to be wasted in solitude. She heard the choked noise of his shock, and her grin deepened. Her top was lazily pulled open, the edges hardly able to stay over her breasts; pert nipples sticking out to bring focus to them. The raindrops tickled and excited them; even more so when her hand lazily brushed over them, her thumb nudging them affectionately. Just beneath her collarbone was a deep scar which she normally had hidden behind her hair. Ichigo took notice of this right away, but was distracted by her other assets.

With her obi already discarded, her loose waist slid off of her to bunch at her ankles. She did not step out of them, hardly gave them a thought at all as she moved her hands to attend next to her traditional fundoshi. It, too, came off with ease after she had pushed it past the swell of her rear end. And there she stood, wearing naught but her captain haori and her robe, both loose and hardly covering anything.

Ichigo wheezed through his gritting teeth. What the hell was going on?! Even on the door of death, his eyes took in all of her, beginning at her shapely leg, the triangular patch of her pubic mound, her body and plump breasts. But her face would no doubt remain etched as his last, terrifying memory. He choked out her name again.

Unohana observed him for a moment. The beautiful swaths she carved in him were so reminiscent of days long gone. She'd almost feared this life of healing and tranquility had dulled her craft.

The heat continued to rage in her against the icy chill of Toushiro's leftover storm. She moved finally, slowly, descending to her knees. Gently, she whispered, "Do not fret, Kurosaki-san. It will not be all bad."

Ichigo doubted it could be any worse. Slashed and pegged…derp… to the earth while a disrobed madwoman crouched over him; all possibilities pointed to his end.  
He felt Unohana press a hand on his chest. It hurt at first, but then there was a strange feeling emanated from it. It forced his racing heart not to explode and to continue pumping blood regularly. He still felt panic throughout his being, but his body was operating at tolerable levels. It was dangling just above death's reach.  
With her other hand, Unohana set herself on the duty of Ichigo's sash. She nimbly pulled at it and loosened the knots until it was slack. Then, taking her bloodied hand back from issuing life-force into the boy, she shrugged down his pants. As expected, he could hardly put up a fight, much less maintain any modesty when his member was drawn into view. Flaccid, but Unohana, when taking it into her grip, detected some pulse of blood. Perhaps the sword stabbed through him was a bit too much, she guessed with a smirk. But she could masterfully coax his arousal. She had used her reiatsu to keep him from dying, and now the body would respond better to impulse.

Curled up at his waist like a crouching demon, hair splayed in a wet tapestry across her Fourth Squad insignia, Unohana played with his member. She wagged it a little first, as if waking someone from slumber. Then, both hands coddling it, she put her tongue on the head, caressing the sensitive end with circling strokes. She lapped hungrily at his glands and prodded at the little slit. She felt the thing begin to swell in her grasp, but not quick enough for her liking. Her own core begged to be filled, but not with something so pitiful.

Her lips surrounded his penis when her hands went away. Ichigo groaned out in agonized splendor. Impulsively, he began to arch his back, but then screamed in pain. Arching his body pushed him against the sword, and he felt the merciless steel slide against his insides. He forced himself still, trying not to take deep breaths. His shallow breathing, however, was making him lightheaded, even more so with this tremendous loss of blood and amount of pain. Yet, when he recoiled and was unable to suppress his pain, Unohana's methods became frenzied. Her lust responded to his suffering. And try as he might to resist, he fulfilled Unohana's desires.  
Unohana's mouth pulled off slowly when she felt the cock twitch, and she marveled at it. The size did not matter to her; it was its rigidness, defiantly standing up while the body was weak and defeated on the ground. To her, it was like a sword, stiff and only as mighty as the owner. It was even streaked with blood after her hand had touched it. Despite being defeated, this display spoke of Ichigo's fortitude. She admired it, and then pulled it gently to her lips for a kiss that put his blood at the corner of her mouth.

As the woman crawled, Ichigo was still trying to find some sense of peace, some equilibrium. He could feel his cock thumping. He hated himself and turned his face into the mud. All other functions of himself were shutting down, yet his arousal stood up proudly and expectantly. He had a very good idea what was to come next, and that only made him throb harder. It seemed the last erection of his life was also the strongest. To make it wilt just a little would allow him to salvage some of his pride before darkness ensued.

But it was far too late. Maintaining balance by holding the pommel of her upended sword, Unohana curled her body to align her snatch with his eager phallus. She lowered slowly until she felt his head brush against her dark hair. That was when she reached underneath to steer him surely. He pushed against her labia, and her sopping wetness took him in with ease. With an enraptured sigh, she took him deep into her body in one, long, downward slide; all the way until she was firmly seated upon his crotch. Even Ichigo could not withhold the moan as his pained body finally was dealt a contending pleasure. The lightheadedness only amplified the feeling, as he was starting to become numb to the stuck sword.

"Do you feel it, Kurosaki-san?" Unohana shifted her hips a little, cooing at the sensation. Her head fell back, and she smiled a depraved smile at the storm overhead. "Do you feel it?" She rocked herself against him, hands now splayed at his hipbone. She jostled atop of him, the drenched fabric of her top sliding back even more to fully expose her ample breasts so that they wobbled and bounced freely.

Ichigo could certainly feel it. Her body was tight and squeezed him. He twitched and throbbed inside, pumping pre-cum out to her cervix. He clenched his eyes shut, refusing to watch the witch in her ceremony. How he wanted to back out of her; how he wanted to send her away so that he may just die. But his body refused. When she began to buck above him, lifting and plummeting, his cock just swelled more and more, adding more of his essence inside of her.

Unohana's breath was heavier than before. She delighted in this sensation of being put upon the most powerful weapon of her fallen adversary. Again and again, she took it inside her, stabbing hard at her womb, waiting to send in an eruption of white. She stared down at him and saw his face contorted in disdain.

He wanted it, she thought with a coarse smile. He wanted to fill her with his essence after she had taken so much of him already. "Do you feel it?" she asked again, and then, with both hands, yanked at her sword, carving Ichigo's insides.

"_YAHH!_"

Ichigo shrieked at the torment, and Unohana's pace quickened. She was wheezing now, practically out of breath as she rode him. Her juices were spilling out of her, too much for the rain to wash away. The noises of their bodies became louder with each smack together. She twisted her Zanpakuto for another cry of pain. "Do you feel it?!"

She panted, her strength sapping and her muscles slowly beginning to lock up. Through all the pain and torment, Ichigo could not hold back. With a sob, he began to pour his seed into Unohana's body, a mighty load to fill her womb with. And feeling his heat fill her, she came undone. Her body locked up, her vaginal muscles clamping around his pulsating member to seal his fruit within. She came so very hard, it'd been centuries! Her body trembled with powerful spasms, her hands rushing across her body to stimulate her clit or travel up from her navel, leaving a trail of Ichigo's blood to her breast – which she squeezed mercilessly while twisting the nipple – over her vicious scar, and to her mouth, where she left her fingertips drip lifeblood over her face.

_Elation!_

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Ichigo sat up with a scream. He was drenched in sweat, so much so that it flew from his face when he rose. Gasping, he stared forward wide-eyed. And in front of him was a window, a window that displayed a nice, bright and happy day in Soul Society. And around him was the quaint room of the Fourth Squad barracks, with naught but the cot he was resting on and a plant in a vase for proper oxidizing for the patient.

This was not a muddy battlefield, and on top of him was not a depraved Unohana. Ichigo stammered and looked down at himself. There was a bandage around his stomach, but nothing else; no cleaving down his left side, nothing. But the dressings at his middle; what had happened?  
"Oh, you're awake. And in such a lively manner, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo felt his heart leap when he heard that serene voice. Terrified, he looked in the doorway to see the Captain of the Fourth Squad, dressed in her usual outfit with her hair spun in that long, front ponytail. She was the motherly, unassuming Captain he had known.

Yet Ichigo could not help but feel in his gut that she was frightening. He stammered when she took a step towards him. She paused, and her healer's smile vanished to a look of concern. "Is something wrong?"

"Wha-what was that?" Ichigo wheezed, still wide-eyed as he stared at her like she would take out a sword and attack suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

Ichigo pointed accusingly at her. "You, you attacked me!"

At this, Unohana couldn't help giggling. "I would not call 'healing' attacking, Kurosaki-san. You must have been having a nightmare." Before anything else could leave his lips in this hysterical state, she explained, "You were on your way to help Hitsugaya-taichou and myself, but a bandit caught you off guard. You took a crack to the back of your head, and fell upon a spear." She gestured to his stomach. "You were lucky I was near."

Ichigo stuttered a bit, looking down at the bandage. A simple stab wound? From a spear? It was… hard to believe! If it was an injury like that, Unohana or Orihime could have patched him up in a moment, like the one that had gone down from his left shoulder; that could be patched up quick! Wounds like this one in his abdomen, it felt like there was powerful reiatsu behind it… of Kenpachi level! "But… But…!" Ichigo's eyes darted frantically. The dream, as Unohana called it, was so very real. He remembered the swings of the sword. "Your hair was down, and Toushiro…"

"Toushiro-taichou received a similar injury," Unohana said dismissively. She turned to the exit. "In fact, I will check on him now."

"But, Unohana-san…!" Ichigo insisted. "There was a scar on your…!"

"Kurosaki-san." He looked at her and saw the darkness when she smiled sweetly at him. Her eyes cracked open so slightly, and he swore he saw some depraved demon peeking through. "It was a nightmare."

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	2. Elated Demons

**not exactly a sequel... at all... but in the same spirit as the first chapter. same warnings apply**

**Elated Demons**

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How did he end up like this? A hole the breadth of her blade through his sternum.

She had said she would heal him, had let him take the lead on the charge to Aizen even when his path-making skills lacked her refinement. He hadn't expected her to draw her sword when his back was to her; the only thing that saved him from her initial thrust was his natural swordsman instinct. A tired Bankai smacked away the Zanpakuto on reflex, and in that short, sharp instant, Ichigo felt it: the thrill of battle, the need of a challenge… blood.

In that moment, Ichigo was terrified. He'd not felt such a chill since fighting Kenpachi the first time. How could such a terrible feeling resonate from the sweet-faced, ever-compassionate healer of the Gotei 13?!

He took distance from her, off-balance from the shoddy reishi platform forming beneath his feet. She merely faced him with that warm, gentle smile. Such serenity to hide the bloodlust within. "My, you move swiftly for one so injured, Kurosaki-san." Sealed Minazuki was brought across her body in preparation. "I wonder if you truly are prepared to battle." She leapt, and he saw madness in her smile as her sword arced in front of her. It was an aim at his jugular, and carried enough force to break his forearm if he tried to block. He leaned back and caught only the sweep of air from the sword stroke.

"What are you doing?!" he yelled at her when he once again found safety a good ways away from where she stood. His hilt creaked in his tightened grip. "Unohana-san…" She was turning to him, slowly and mechanically. "What's wrong with you?!" He needed an answer! It made no sense!

"You're not…" Unohana gazed at him with her deep-blue eyes, and a look of woe claimed her features. "… strong enough."

They clashed blades two more times, but the disadvantage was clear. Ichigo was operating at little more than half his usual strength, and the concentration it took him to gather the free-floating spirit particles beneath his feet was not helping. Against a captain-class' exhilarated fury, it was only a matter of time before he missed a thrust and felt Unohana effectively bury herself to the hilt within his chest.

Unohana lofted him overhead like a trophy to admire, yet she held no pride in her kill. He was such pitiful sport for one who wanted the fight to last longer. The rampage of Kenpachi's fight, the madness emanating from Mayuri; it had all formed a cocktail that her inner demon drunk up until intoxicated. Now alone in the void with one powerful enough to possibly sate her, she could not have helped herself…

… Yet she was disappointed in the end.

"I wish you were stronger," she said to the body barely drawing breath into his body. "Kurosaki-san…"

Better he die here in the void than against an enemy like Aizen, who would crush his spirit before his life.

Unohana prepped to unsheathe her sword from its body holster, but for a tremor that traveled down the length of it to her very core. She blinked. The substitute was knocking on death's door. Was this an expulsion of the last of his undeniably large reiatsu? Unohana paused to see if it would happen again.

Something did happen, but not something as simple as a tremor. Ichigo's whole body rattled before his mouth opened wide, gurgling on what his slayer thought was blood until a substance like clay spewed from his throat. The healer's eyes widened, and she knew it to be best to get away.

The transformation was practically instantaneous. Orange hair extended and fanned out in the outburst of a malevolent aura. The clay had taken shape over his face; the mask of a vicious demon, long horns jutting from either side. His complexion, streak with red, matched the paleness of a corpse, but this boy was still very much alive, even when a gaping hole opened up around Unohana's sword.

The Fourth Squad Captain's reaction to this phenomenon was too slow. Her sword suddenly free sagged in her careless grip. "What…?"

Tensa Zangetsu carved up in an endeavor to split her in half from groin to skull, but she'd enough sense to dodge this initial attack, not the second. His Zanpakuto was tossed into the abyss, useless after its miss. His claws – formed with jagged red tips – were more trustworthy weapons. Unohana gasped when they caught her and shredded her uniform in the front. Not a wound, but it was an exemplary example of their lethality.

Another woman, one who fretted indecency, would have grabbed the tatters of her robes and tried to cover themselves. Unohana, braid undone by the vicious one's slash, stood there with her arms tense at her sides, unheeded by the draft to her naked front. Naught but a traditional fundoshi hid her modesty, leaving an unabashed gleam of her full, brown-tipped breasts. In between them, the single scar tarnishing her flawless skin throbbed.

Unohana stared at her foe with eyes wide. How long had it been since such pressure forced her down? Her knees trembled slightly under the weight.

Minazuki pointed at the Hollow-masked Ichigo. "Kurosaki-san…" The name was uncertain on her tongue. "What power is this?"

The answer came in a spherical Cero, tearing through the Garganta to set Unohana ablaze. It collided with her platform, but her shunpo was too quick.

The Hollow's sonido was quicker. Tensa Zangetsu was on the path to cut her again. Minazuki intercepted with a sharp clang, one that was felt more on her side than his. She chanced an attack, stabbing at his open ribs, not stopping to ponder if he had went to retrieve his sword with a sonido before attacking or if he was able to summon it at will.

A successful cut that was made moot by the frighteningly-fast regenerative capabilities of the Hollow. The wound bubbled with the clay-like substance, sealed, and smoothed over until it was as if it had never happened.

Not even she could heal so quickly, Unohana thought with wide eyes on the beast. A tactical error that was exploited by raking claws that cleaved the flesh of her shoulder. A shunpo carried her to safety, and her healing touch mended the wound – the same could not be said for her robes, which crumbled off of her in a disjointed sleeve. Rags remained on her now, more naked than not. Her left breast was completely exposed, and her hakama barely retained its grip on her waist.

No period of rest was given; the boy-turned-Hollow was on her in a trice, black metal and red talons everywhere. The first Kenpachi did well against such savagery, for she was no stranger to mindless bloodlust either. Her skin was streaked with red before her healing abilities kicked in, closing the smaller cuts instantly while the larger injuries took a longer time to sew shut. On the Hollow was the same, but at a much faster rate… If this continued, eventually, Unohana's healing reservoir would dry up, and the enemy's would remain full.

Another encounter of blade sent exhilarated sparks that lit up the deranged smile on her face. The last time she felt like this… It had been so long ago! To the immortality of the Shinigami, one-thousand years could pass without much notice. To a beast like Unohana, caged by peace, it was like being prodded by a hot rod each day.

And now she had a competitor, one that was not shackling himself with every sword stroke. She did not know his name. She did not want to. She wanted him to bleed and to bleed with him.

She dove forward and cut open his stomach.

_Yes…!_

He ripped at her shoulder.

_Yes!_

They impaled each other simultaneously.

_YES!_

The orgasmic bliss made Unohana take pause, her head falling back as she gave a great smile to the void around her. She'd so desperately missed this feeling.

Swords slunk out of each other, and right away, the wounds began to close. The enemy's finished quicker, and she was still reeling from the attack before being run-through.

The warp of sonido…

He was going to take her from behind? She awaited the sword piercing through her sternum, overlapping a nameless boy's own claim to her life. She gripped the hilt tightly. No, she would not go down with her back turned! She made to swing around, a last ditch effort that would expose the fatal vulnerability of her ribs. A clean shot at her heart…

But the back of her head was caught before she could pivot, and commanding force shoved her on all fours atop a platform of reishi; not blue-white, but blood red. It blazed beneath her, the fury and madness palpable. This position of submission, the weight of his palm on her head and the positioning of his body as he chased her. Her tongue lulled out to lick lusciously at her lips.

Her hakama was torn down and the round cheeks of her backside were separated by the loincloth. An obstacle the Hollow meant to rip through, but her hips jerked with his hand, and he came up short as only one hole was exposed – the one not slick with excitement.

That did not deter the demon that had unsheathed his swollen manhood. From its tip ran a jagged line of red to smooth flesh, and the undercarriage was striped the same color. Hairless… The Hollow's skin must've covered the boy's, or Ichigo was partial to this sort of grooming.

No matter or concern to her. She herself hardly styled down there beyond maintaining a slight trim. But whatever the preference – if any – the Hollow's aim was not her gash.

She felt his impatient hand shove aside one cheek, the prick of his fingertips touching her supple flesh, and the warm air of the Garganta touching between her.

In one go, the Hollow had lined himself up and plugged with unapologetic haste. Her tight ring stretched painfully around his formidable girth, yet she reacted with a lusty grin and a prolonged groan that echoed from her throat. The beast above her gave a harsh, ragged exhale, steadily crawling deeper into her bowels, his hands anchoring him to her, though she'd no desire of shoving him off. On the contrary, she pressed her back into a deep arch to help wedge his piece into her. His beastly growl grew louder at her cooperation, and every inch of his meat vanished within the hole.

Unohana gulped like something the size of a tangerine had stuck in her throat. She'd not taken someone – or something – so deep before. Her lieutenant was the last to share her bed, but her tentativeness always led Unohana to control the situation and stimulate her as she pleased. Not very many – none alive – knew just how kinky and provocative Unohana could be in bed; none but Isane… and now a mindless Hollow.

"_Uhn…!_" The Captain endured the sharp thrusts that followed the deep embedment with ease and anticipation. The claws clamped on her ass, spreading her and keeping his view full. He reached for her shoulder, gaining leverage over her motions and yanked her to him each time he hammered inward. She felt her guts rearranging to accommodate his steady, firm piston; if she'd put her hand underneath her navel, she would feel the process. "_Harder_," she hissed, as if speech made any difference to the Hollow's primal will.

A screech of rage or pleasure tore from his throat, his jaws opening wide a dark abyss within. He lifted from his knees to balance on the balls of his feet, now squatting deeply over Unohana's backside and ramming harder and harder into it at a more severe angle. "_Yesss_," slurred the woman, eyes turning upward, elation filling her veins as the talons took hold of her gullet. He could strangle the life out of her as he fucked her, or rip her throat out and do as he wished with her carcass until she was simply bone that he'd grind to dust.

No… a simple choking sufficed. Her breath grew more ragged as her windpipe narrowed. It felt like firecrackers in her head, brain cells bursting from less oxygen. Slow, but effective destruction… She loved this monster.

Defying the grip of his hand, she twisted around, breasts still shaking up and down with his vicious rending of her ass. She caught the back of his head and tugged him into what should have been a kiss if he'd lips; she settled for slathering her tongue over his fangs and dipping in between them. He did not bite at her like she half-expected him to; he just hissed and continued to rail her, more slowly than before, but no less insensitive. He accepted her licking like a devil accepted sacrifice, but inevitably, he'd grown tired of it. With a sharp shriek, he lifted his right foot and put it to Unohana's face, stepping on her when she was fully subdued, fully prostrated. Her long hair stuck out around her head in all directions, the ends hanging off the Hollow's platform.

"_Uhn! Un-un! Ah!_"

Facedown and ass up, she took the anal pounding harder and deeper than before, more thoroughly even, as if he was determined to reach the deepest, most intimate parts of her being. The beast grunted above her, gurgled and hissed as he continuously tilted his hips into hers. Her rear compressed and decompressed and compressed again each time he drove his pelvis downward. Beneath her, squashed by his weight added to hers, her breasts swelled and her nipples met the hot platform of the Hollow's power. The surface was smooth, yet grated just enough to stimulate the puckered pebbles. And with his foot pressing on the side of her face – _The elation!_ – she could not grope herself in the way she wished.

In the void of the Garganta, the only sounds heard were her deep-throated, sometimes muffled grunts and groans, the Hollow's breath, and the hot, wet squelch of his body joining to her colon. Harder and harder, his hips hit her butt until she felt like she would bruise, and he kept on going. As best as she could, hardly able to move underneath his talon foot, she tried to rock back into him. Her fundoshi was stained with her juices, the indecent spot growing each time the offender's testicles banged up against her crotch.

At one point, the Hollow nearly disengaged entirely, and Unohana's rim struggled to maintain the bulbous tip within. Did he intend to leave her unsatisfied? She actually dreaded the notion, but relief returned like a tidal wave after the tide receded. He crammed himself back into her used hole, deeper and deeper and deeper until his groin shoved against her firm mounds and she could feel his sac resting tightly between his pelvis and her snatch. She rolled her hips as if he'd commanded her to, stimulating her clit as much as she could with what she had to work with.

It was inevitable that she bring her hands into play. One supported herself, resisting just enough of his weight so that he didn't squash her, and the other sought the union of their bodies, the juncture of their legs. Her forefinger and middle finger sized up his shafted, splitting around it while also measuring the separation of her anus around him. Then she went to his balls, heavy things secure inside the membrane of Hollow-tough skin. She fondled them as if this were a medical examination, turning them this way and that, feeling their roundness and heaviness.

It must've pleased the Hollow, for he immediately went to frenzy, hands returning to her waist to steady her as he slammed himself into her, harder and faster than before. His voice steadily climbed from the raspy hiss to an echoing scream. He beat his hips to hers, and she braced with each swat with a grimace and a grunt. The stimulation on her clit rushed her to climax, a throaty cry to coincide with the gushing essence further staining her fundoshi.

Isane, sweet and tender, never made the demon cum like this.

The muscles tightened up around him, and the lining of Unohana's rectum flexed in her release. Lust and all manner of sin fed into him from her flaring reiatsu, and the Hollow bowed under the unrestrained show of her power. But he answered with his own display, screeching and intensifying the air with his equally-demonic aura. The world of the Garganta was inherited by wickedness as the two devils came to release. Not for an instant did the Hollow end his abuse of Unohana's ass, shoving into her over and over while his essence traveled into her in heavy volleys that stuck to her insides. The quantity inevitably overflowed, squirting around his pelvic region while he continued his charge.

"_Rrrah! Rah! RrrrrRAHHH!_" He packed himself as deep as he was able while the remnants of his orgasm flooded her bowels. His roar was mighty as he claimed her, claws raking down her back to leave lines of blood in her skin. She reveled in the delicious pain, and she would not soon forget the delight of this encounter, even as the Hollow recovered and began again, huffing and hissing.

ccc

Ichigo came awake in a puddle of slime, and his eyes opened to take in the sight of some bizarre creature that looked like it belonged in the ocean! Stammering, he tried to scurry away and make sense of what he was seeing, but the slime – the creature's mucus, most definitely – made his actions slippery and clumsy.

"Awake, Kurosaki-san? I'm glad to see you in good spirits."

Ichigo blinked and looked to his right. He was still in the void of the Garganta, and he and the creature and now even Unohana-san were on a broad plateau of reishi, refined and elegant; her work, no doubt. She sat in ceremonious wait, legs tucked under her and her hands on her thighs as she waited. Ichigo looked at her… looked a little longer… and then gawked.

"Minazuki was able to heal you in his stomach," she explained to the flabbergasted boy. "It will still take some time to handle the recovery of your spiritual energy, I'm afraid."

Ichigo pointed at her, stammered a bit, and finally got out the words that were bothering him. "_Why are you dressed like that?!_"

It was true that her clothing was an issue; rather, the _lack_ of her clothing made Ichigo stammer and stumble. Only her braid retained its usual neatness while her clothes were torn to bits, hanging on her like shrouds of night.

Unohana simply laughed politely. "Such a fuss," she mused behind her lifted hand. Her blue eyes peered at him as if to goad him. "And you've not even looked at your own state."

Unsure what was meant by that, Ichigo looked himself over and saw just what she meant immediately, sticking out like a sore thumb in front of his hakama. What was he doing with his dick – hard as a rock! – sticking out, pointing insistently at Unohana-san?!

"Wha-what?!"

He made to cover himself, but Unohana's shunpo was the faster in the race against his hands. She stood before him, and being shocked while covered in slime, Ichigo fell on his ass.

"Now, now," she cooed as Minazuki loomed above her with its great smile. "We can't have you going into battle like that…" She lowered herself gracefully to the stunned teen, taking her position between his legs. "Kurosaki-san."

She slammed his cock to the back of her mouth before he could even think of a modest protest.

ccc


End file.
